


The Closeness of Friendship

by saidie456



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Derek is kinda violent to Stiles in the first chapter, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, So be warned, Soldier Derek, WWII, World War II, stiles is engaged to lydia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saidie456/pseuds/saidie456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale was my best friend; we’d been friends since our first few years of School.</p><p>It’s funny; we vowed that we would always be friends, always and forever, since them first few years of school.</p><p>And now when I look back, I so envy that version of myself, so blissfully unaware of what was still to come...<br/>--------------------<br/>or the one where Derek goes off to war, because killing is easier than watching the person you love get married</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> some of you may recognise the story line, and that's because I'm re-writing it. I hated the crappy writing, and where the story was going.  
> so yeah... hopefully a better version coming your way...

Derek Hale was my best friend; we’d been friends since our first few years of School.

It’s funny; we vowed that we would always be friends, always and forever, since them first few years of school.

And now when I look back, I so envy that version of myself, so blissfully unaware of what was still to come...

But you see, it all started in the summer of 1937; it was a pretty ordinary day for me. My Farther sat at the kitchen table, reminiscing about how it was like when he got married, and had me, which, inadvertently, was his way of hinting that he wanted the same for me.

But I just didn't care for marriage yet. I was more interested in what the rest of the world held for me, to travel the world, see new sights, meet new people. Try new experiences and never have to answer to reason.

I just wanted to be free.

That's all I've ever wanted. To not become part of a nine-five life where I work, go home, kiss the wife, read the paper, put the kids to bed, then go to bed myself and then repeat the same thing again. It just sounded so boring to me.

Sorry, I'm getting side-tracked. So as I was saying, my father had just finished nattering to himself about the future, to which I was meant to listen to. Don't get me wrong, I did try, but when you've heard the same thing over and over again, you zone out a little... Or a lot.

My usual routine consisted of; going to the library to pick up some light reading for myself and my father, wondering down to the bakers to pick up a treat for Mrs Parkinson who lives by herself down the road, picking some wild daises to place on my mothers grave, then meeting Derek by the creek. That was my favourite time of day.

I met Derek by our usual spot in the woods. we'd meet on the left side of the creek where the trees arch over the water, and the sun that does make it through the thick bush of leaves gets reflected off the water, and onto the rocks by the steeper end. Not only was the tranquillity and peace the reason why the creek was my favourite place, but also because of the company.

When it was just me and Derek, we would talk about anything and everything. He would tease me about sounding posh because I came from a second class family, and I would tease him about his inability to shave... Which he would later just laugh at and comment on the fact that he was able to grow facial hair in the first place...

It was out place, somewhere where we could forget about our usual day to day life, forget about the rules and regulations that men of our age should be following.

Like finding a wife.

The thing about Derek, is that he lost his family in a house fire a few years back, and that's his excuse for not finding a wife. Which we both know is alot of bullshit, excuse the language. But I have to hand it to him, it does keep the ladies away from him. Which is something I could never work out at the time. Why a man in his prime, a... good... looking guy wouldn't be interested in having a wife, especially since he could have any girl he wanted.

But me? I nearly always had my father on my back about it. "You keep looking after me son, but you know who could look after you? A wife", "You know Stiles, I'd hate to see you living on your own, how about finding a nice young lady...?" And my the newest one, "Stiles, Mr Martin was telling me about his daughter winning the local beauty pagent three years running. How about we invite them for dinner"?

I mean really... But sreiously, it's like they think we're some sort of animal that needs to procreat to survive. we're in the 20th century for goodness sake, not the 1800s, when it was all about marrying into a good name and whatnot.

But that's why the creek was my favorite place, because it was our bubble away from everyone else. Sometimes we would pack a lunch and sit on this red fluffy blanket with a frayed corner that Derek insisted on bringing everythime with him, so we wouldn't get dirt on our pants, sometimes we would just talk, sometimes we would swim, and sometimes, we would never even say a word.

But that's when I ruined everything.

\--------------------------

It started out as an ordinary day for me, a Saturday if I remember correctly. We were just laying on the blanket under the tree coverage, watching the whites of the clouds pass the breaks in the trees.

"So how was your morning"? I asked him, stretching an arm out infront of myself to let the blood flow.

"Same old", he sat up. "Went to visit my family's graves, then went to visit my uncle".

Derek's uncle is something we never really talked about. Peter Hale. The last remaining Hale, not including Derek of course. Even if he was barely human now. He got the full brunt of the fire, without even the mercy of it killing him. Instead he spends his remaining years in a hospital room, staring blankly out of a window and not having any idea how much Derek missed him.

"How about you"? Derek asked back.

"The usual, like you", I replied back, smiling. "My father went on about a wife again. He's even inviting a girl round for dinner on Thursday, a daughter of someone my father knows. Apparently she's "The most beautful girl in all of California", according to my dad" I say jokingly, expecting Derek to half chuckle half grunt like he usually does.

But not this time.

This time was different.

Even now I can see the events that unfolded that afternoon in slow motion in my head. I can still see the redness build up in Derek's face, the crinkles in his forehead start to build up, his teeth being grited against themselves.

He got up without a word, walking over to the nesrst tree.

He just stood there, staing at it.

Out of nowhere, Dereks fist collided with the tree, breaking off a heap of bark and moss, and shedding some of his own outer layer aswell. His knuckles were bleeding, wood sticking out of the gaps, and he just picked them out as if the pain didn't phase him.

"Derek" I caushiously squeeked as I slowly stood up.

"Don't!" He growled at me. "Don't come near me". I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared. Not of him, but for him. I didn't know why he was angry, he was absolutely fine not 15 minutes ago, and then... This.

"Derek, come on". I said from where I stood, still on the blanket. "Tell me what's going on, come on, this isn't fair, I can't help you if you wont tell me what's worng, I-"

"Not Fair?" He turned at glared at me. What stood before me was a man I had never seen before, and if I never met him again in my lifetime, it would be too soon.

"Not fair is having to listen to you whitter on about meeting girls, and getting married when I- You know that's not what you want, fuck Stiles. You've told me that you never want to get married. And now you're following 'daddies' orders and having dinner with her. what you gonna do, settle down, get married in the next two years, have some kids. That is not you Stiles, that's your father talking!" He yelled at me. He'd never yelled at me. Heck, we'd never even fought before. Sure we had our... Debates... But fight? Never.

I couldn't take it, I was never one to back down from a fight, and that wasn't going to change then.

"Oh, so you know what my father says then-"

"Yes because you never shut up about "daddy dearest"" he mocked.

"Fuck you Derek, At least I have a dad looking out for m-". I didn't even finish it before being struck in the face by a bloodied fist. And I deserved it. Even after all these years, I still can't believe I would even think about saying something like that to anyone, especially Derek.

The fist struck again.

And again.

And again.

I can only assume my pitful cries and screams were what stopped him. By this time, I was laying on the floor of the hard ground, face stinging like the pit of Hell had swallowed me whole, my jaw, unable to move much at all, my chest bleeding from where his nails dug in holding my shirt up.

So I layed there, as I waching him walk away in the distance.

\-------------------------------------------

Due to being attacked down in "an allyway" by some "muggers", the dinner with the Martins was moved to the week after, allowing my face to heel.

\------------------------------------------------

It was two months when I next saw Derek, and they were the longest two months of my life.

After what happened at the creek that day, it became public knoledge that Derek hadn't left his family home at all, most people assumed he was sick, or in hiding. I still don't know why, but my guess is the latter.

But as I was saying, I walked into the local library to pick up a book and return the one from the day before, like I normaly did, when I walked in on Derek reading in the corner. Now it wasn't one of those times where you could sneak off so they'd never see you. No, because dear old Mrs Grey greeted me from the door as she normally does.

After discussing with her the acts of George in 'Of Mice and Men', the latest book I read, I went in search for a new book. The only problem was that the section I normally look at, was next to where Derek was reading. And whatever he was reading had him as red as a beet. At the time I assumed it was one of those crumby romance novels. Lydia seemed to adore them too.

Ah, that's another aspect of my life that changed. I was now engaged to Miss Lydia Martin, soon to be Stilinski. The dinner with her and her family went tremndiously well, and she was everything my father explained her as.

She was very smart, now I'm not one of those old codgers that think women shouldn't be smart, infact I embrace women who can outsmart men, but even then, she was down right the smartest persom I had ever met, and she was also the most beautiful. She had lovely redish blond hair that fell to her waist, emerald green eyes, and the most petite height that made her simply adorable. But you daren't say that infront of her, unless you're looking for a smack.

So not only was I in the library for myself, but also Lydia, who I proposed to earlier that week.

I walked over to my usual shelf and decided that if Derek wanted to say hello, then I would be courtious enough to reply, and if not... Then I'd leave it. However things don't always have a habit of going to plan.

I end up saying hello to him first after he looked at me then hid the book he was reading under the table, so I couldn't see it. I wasn't even bothered about his book.... well... I wasn't before he hid it.

"Hello" he noded back, bright red.

"Soo... How are things"? I ask nevously, still standing awkwardly by the bookshelf.

"Things are good". He answers, equally nervous. "You"?

"Yeah, things are... -" Do I tell him, do I not... "-good, yeah. Nothing, much." I didn't.

\---------------

After that things slowly get back to a fraction of what they were before.

We would sit by the creek and talk again, not as much as before, but we were getting there. Derek still refused to look at my face unless necessary, maybe from guilt, maybe from anger still.

\-------------------

It was September the 3rd, war had broken out in Europe two days ago, the world was in mourning, over the death poll over two days, and my dad insisted holding a dinner in memory for those who had lost their lives. Sure America wasn’t involved, but that didn’t mute the fact that people were dying everywhere.

At the table was me, my father, Lydia and her parents, Mr and Mrs Argent and their daughter, who was engaged to a guy called Scott McCall. Nice guy he was, we became friends after me and Derek had our... Row.

We were just waitng on Derek, who my father invited without consulting me first about it. Normally I love when Derek would come for dinner, however that day? Not so much. It was a disaster waiting to happen. All because I wasn't man enough to tell him I was engaged to Lydia.

To say I was confused when the doorbell sounded when I thought everyone was here would have been an understatement. But when I watched my father go to the door and invite Derek in, well, my heart sunk. Because I knew I had just lost my best friend again, for good.

"I'm glad you could make it Derek, here, let me introduce you to everyone. This here is Miss Lydia Martin, Stiles' intended and her paremts, this is-"

I blanked out there. I was too pale and shaken to even watch what was happing right in front of me. I could see Derek's face morph into pure sadness and hurt. And I couldn't blame him. 

I did that.

It was all my fault, again.

But the worst was still to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also want to thank NicoDoubleLe for being amazing and helping me with things, in particularly my terrible spelling...

Well, what can I say... Being engaged hadn't changed me all that much really. Not that I thought it would alot, but you know what they say, when you fall in love with someone, your entire world changes.

and I couldn't work out why mine didn't.

I did love Lydia. To this day I still do on some level. Back then however, I didn't understand the true meaning of love.

I would visit Lydia every couple of days, and we would sit on the bench in her garden, surrounded by the beautiful pink roses. To which I would annoy her by comparing her to them. But she loved it really. Then we would take a stroll throught the woods, avoiding the east where Derek lived, go for some lunch at Mr Browns bakery, sitting in the right hand corner of the shop, near the window, then I would walk her home.

All through our trips we would laugh, hold hands, talk about what we wanted for the future. for example; how many children, what their names would be, where our dream house could be, what advernters we could go on.

I would choose somewhere secluded and new, like a jungle full of mysterious animals somewehere, whereas she would reather sit with a glass of champaigne by the seaside. We could never agree on that one.

It was nice,

It was.

One day I can't forget, is the first time we kissed. We were sitting on the bench, her parents were out for an hour or two, visiting a freind who had lost her huspand sadly. We were young and felt rather daring, so we kissed. Although she refused anything more until a wedding band was on her finger, and I, the gentleman I was, had to agree with her there.

That is something I wanted to stick to, a tradition my mother and father followed. Even though I understand that some of the young couples weren't waiting, I just felt my time hadn't come yet.

As I was saying, we had just kissed, it was nice, don't get me wrong. But I was expecting fire works and explosions for my first kiss... And all I felt was... A flutter? A small buzz? I don't know... I still couldn't tell you. But I just assumed it would get better as time went on.

And I won't lie and tell you that the kisses following were the same, because that wouldn't be fair to Lydia. They were better afterwards, not firework better, but they were good enough to... raise my spirits...

Yes, I am aware how corny that sounded, but I'm still not used to talking about that stuff yet...

\-----------------------------------------

It was three months later again, until Derek was even brought up in a conversation. By Lydia of all people.

Considering they didn't really speak much... Or at all during my father's war dinner, and I never really spoke about him to Lydia either. Which is why I certainly wasn't expecting her to turn around in the middle of lunch and say "We could go and visit Derek today if you like."

As you've probably guessed, I was shocked, and a little confused.

"What's brought this on"?

"Well, you know how Scott and Isaac used to be close friends, but since he got engaged to Allison... They just... Drifted apart, they don't even talk to each other really. Allison believes it's her fault for getting in between them, I told her she was foolish to believe so of course... But now that I think about it..." Her sentence ended as she looked down at the fruit scone infront of her as if it was the most interesting thing on the world.

"Lydia, darling, I don't know Isaac enough to vouch for him, but Scott? Well you can tell that he is simply head over heels for Allison, he probably forgets how much Isaac meant to him as a friend before. But he will, in time. And if you think I haven't spoke to Derek because of you, then you're wrong. Me and Derek had some... Differences recently. We haven't really got around to sorting them out. That's all". I gripped both of her hands over the checkered table cloth. "I swear my love, it has nothing to do with you", I smiled at her.

\------------------------------------------

It was later that evening when I brought up the courage to look for it. Something that seemed so insignificant, that meant nothing to no one, but me and Derek. So I kept it, even after everything he did.

It was hidden in my bedroom, in the closet, rolled up underneath my mothers old teddy bears that she told me to keep and pass down to my children.

And there it layed, the red fluffy blanket with the frayed corner.

You see, after Derek had... Left me on the ground by the creek, I layed there wondering about what happened to my best friend. Please don't assume I forgave him. I still remember it too well to forgive him that easy. But we shared so many good memories with each other, and I didn't want to let them go, so I took the blanket and hobbled home.

I couldn't part with it, and for some reason on that day, I particulalary missed Derek. Mainly because it was the first time in a while I had thought about him. So what I did, was take the blanket out of the closet and wrap it around myself, letting it bring the comfort of those memories back. At one point I brought a section of the blanket to my nose, hoping to find Dereks scent. I didn't.

I know how mad and unusual that sounded. A man sniffing a tatty blanket for the scent of another man... It was so... Unnatural. But to me, it was just... Me.

\--------------------------

Things started to change from there on.

It was the 8th of December 1941, when the USA joined the war. Thats when the new life i grew accustomed to crumbled around me.

I heard it from my father out of all people. And I was furious at that. Derek, who hated my fathers beliefs on marriage and children, told my father before me, that he had signed himself off to be trained for the war...

"Oh, son. That reminds me, I ran into young Derek earlier today. Why didn't you tell me he was off to war"?

"He's what?"

"Off to war, camp Haan he's going to. Brave man. But he's fighting for a good cause, so we musn't dwell on it, eh?" He sat down in his usual chair at the kitchen table, as I just stood in the kitchen, pale as a sheet, with a greasy, dripping spatula in my hand.

'How could he?' I screamed every night. how could he not tell me, i know we werent in the best of places now, but... We were best friends. We told each other everything.... But then...

I sat on my bed, going through them thoughts over and over again when my father called me to tell me Lydia was at the door.

Stading an rubbing my eyes as I did. I saw her, red and blotchy as can be, sitting on the couch in the living room.

"Lydia, darling? whats wrong"? I sat beside her, pulling her hands into my lap, wiping one of the fallen tears off her cheek.

"My father, he's- he's thinking of fighting for the country again". She said solmonly. Mr Martin was a war hero from first war, a highly respected man in the town. Lydia adored him, but if he went again, it would break her heart.

So we sat there, her sniffing and silently crying on my sholder, and me wondering what I was going to do with Derek. I guess that seemed a little selfish huh? My fiancee crying on my sholder, crying about her own flesh and blood dying in the war, and I was too busy worrying about Derek.

He was my best friend, I couldn't let him go like this...

\-------------------------------------

I went to the library and picked up two books then went to see Mrs Parkinson, went to visit my mother with some flowers, then left some spare daisies on Lydia's doorstep because I knew it might cheer her up a little, and then I went to the old hale house.

It was by far the most impressive house in all of Beacon Hills, all thanks to the local people.

You see, when Dereks family died, the house went with them, and Derek had no where else to go. So what the town did, was pull all their strenghts and money together for the grieving child they'd all come to know. It was magnificent when it was finished. Built with the same construction as the original house. Five bedrooms, a living room, a dining room, a overly large kitchen, two lavetories, even one indoors, and a basement. However Derek refused to let people redo that part of the house. too many memories for him.

As I walked up to the house, I noticed all the windows were closed, the ivy around the door hadn't been cut, and even his bike was sarting to rust from being left outside. And that wasn't Derek at all.

I knocked three times before Derek was opeing the door.

"What do you want Stiles?" He monotonned. Since I last saw him, his eyes were red, his hair was long... Longer than it normally is and matted, he'd lost weight... now THAT wasn't Derek at all.

"Derek, what-". I couldn't believe what I saw. He had to be ill I thought to myself, until I looked down and saw the cause.

A nearly empty bottle of brandy in his hand.

The same thing that nearly killed my father after my mother had died.

"What do you want"? He repeated impatiently.

"I just- I-"

"I'm too busy for this shit". He stepped back to close the door, before I put my foot into it that is.

In all manners of speaking.

"What are you doing to yourself Derek, signing up for the war?!? Derek, you hate anything to do with wars and death. And the brandy?... I... Derek, you need help!" I cried at him.

"Help Stiles? You think i need help?" He threw the door wide open again and stormed out. "You're the cause of this anyway. It's all you Stiles. Always has been".

"Oh for goodness sake Derek, I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I am truly sorry. But I did not start this! You were the one that left me bl..." I couldn't say it. I knew he was guilty enough as it is.

"No you did that. You've done that to me every single day of my life. You've ruined me!"

"What the he-"

Derek went to cose the door again, obviously agrivated with me. So i just followed him in.

To this very day, I couldn't explain what overtook my senses that day. But the closest I have ever got, was the smell of a borthel. Well... What I expected a brothel to smell like, and one that makes their customers sleep in their own fecies and drink nothing but alcohol. Even then, that isn't close enough. There were flies everywhere, empy bottles of various alcohol lined the floor, blankets covered in blood and... Other... Bodily subsatnces, and I know for a fact that not all of that could come form Derek...

"You happy now". I looked up to see Derek watching me, his face red with anger once more. "This is what you've done to me. I hope your happy". He skulked over, closer to me, standing tall, atempting to intimidate me. But I wasn't moving, I wasn't leaving him again, especially if this is how he's been living.

"I didn't put the bottle in your hand". I stared at him back.

"No, but your the one that gave me no other choice. I had nothing else to do, not like I could talk to my only friend when he was too busy with a girl he'd just met. So why not". I couldn't believe What I had just heard...

"You need help Derek, let me help you. For Godsake man, look at yourself". I placed my hand carefully on his sholder, trying not to anger him further. "Let me help you", I repeated quieter, my voice close to breaking.

Before I knew it, my hand had moved from his shoulder to his hair, and his had travelled to my lower back as our lips met.

To say I had planned for that to happen would be a lie. To say I didn't enjoy it would also be a lie.

But was it right...?

That was the question.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

That night I was unable to even close my eyes, because when I did, I saw him again. I saw the burning memories bounce around my head like a boomerang...

\------------------------------------------------------------

_"Der- Derek" I had whispered, begging him to stop and to remove his hands from my rear, to remove his mouth from my neck. However I can't say I put much effort into it._

_"Derek!" I snapped with more conviction. "What are you doing to yourself?" I whisper, as we stand in the living room; what can only be described as a dump, holding each other close, and breathing the other in._

_"I can't lose you, Stiles". He admitted, resting his forehead against my own in an intimate way. In that moment, I knew that Derek Hale meant more to me than just a friend._

_All throughout School, I wasn't considered popular. In other words, I never had many, or any friends, true friends at least, and I was never the attention of any of the girls either. So I had never experience the thrill of someone saying "I need you" to me before._

_I probably would have done anything for him then, anything at all. But the sound of Derek's loose bike bell ringing from the wind outside brought me back to reality._

_"Derek, we can't do this". I had to sigh, because even though I did want him in that moment, I knew I couldn't, that life wouldn't let me. "You know we can't"._

_I stroke my right hand along his cheek, to lift his head off my own._

_"Please Stiles, please don't say that". I have never, not even now, head that man whimper. Except in... Special occasions..._

_But he did, and it down right broke my heart._

_We couldn't be together... It was unnatural, not to mention the two main issues at hand. "_

_You know we- Where would we even go? We couldn't stay here, people would talk. Derek, you need to accept that it can't happen, no matter how much you... we..." I couldn't even finish the sentence._

_"I have funds stashed away", he cried frantically. "We could build a home, together, by the creek!"_

_"Derek enough!". I remember almost shouting it, watching his face slowly fall before me. "You're leaving for war tomorrow... I'm engaged... To Lydia... We can't!" I was shocked, angry... repulsed, and all at myself. How could have I have done that to Lydia?_

_That was the last thing I asked myself before I let go of Derek and ran out of the door, almost tripping on the slight hill which sat a couple of metres away from the door._

_My heart was racing, my hands were shaking, and my... Male anatomy... was a little more excited than I would have liked to be._

_\------------------------------------------------------------_

And that's how I stayed all night... Willing my body to calm itself... In all aspects.

 

I wont try and hide it, my thoughts did change throughout the night, and not all of them were nice.

'Has Derek always been unnatural?' 'Is that why he had no friends?' 'Is that why he was angry at me for getting engaged?' and the worst one, 'Was it Derek's fault that I now thought about unnatural things for him? Did I catch something off him?'

But the main question was, 'did I enjoy it'? And the answer to that would have to be... Yes... I did, no matter how many times I would tell myself otherwise. I understood it was only a kiss, but I got electric volts running through my veins when he kissed me, which was more than the flutter I got from Lydia.

But me enjoying it, and following through with it are completely different things. For example, 'what would happen if people did find out?' I kept asking myself, my father's heart would give in, my mother would be so disappointed in me, then Lydia...

Even now I still feel guilty, though some days are worse than others. I did love her, I really did... Just not as much as she or most people, would hope.

I had to marry her. I just had to.

I hadn't seen my father this happy in years. And after what I did with Derek... I just had to...

\------------------------------------------------------------

Derek left for training the next day, and I couldn't even dream of getting out of my bed.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The date was February the 15th of 1942.

The day Lydia and I were married. We originally did plan to have the wedding the month before, but since the war broke out, everyone had been up in arms trying to work out how they would live their lives normally. As if people they knew and loved weren't probably getting killed that very moment.

But we finally picked the date, and opted for a small event. I've never been one for flash events, but it did surprise me when Lydia agreed. She always seemed the type to want a large and explosive wedding. One that would stay in everyone's minds for years to come.

But she didn't, so we were wed in the local Church, the same Church that my mother and father were married in. That however, did turn my insides upside down.

At one point, I felt closer to my mother knowing I was going to be standing in the same place she would have twenty-three years previous, but it also made me feel even more of a fraud over the incident with Derek.

All in all though, it was really wonderful. Lydia was absolutely stunning. She wore an elegant dress that was smart as well as gorgeous. Her hair, which was normally tied and permed up, was loose and flowing, covered by a netted white veil.

As I stood there, I had believed I had just witnessed an angel walk in, she was the most beautiful sight a husband could ask for.

As for the gathering after the wedding, well what can I say, It was nice, don't get me wrong. The only problem was my mind was elsewhere.

As the night went on more and more people were getting piddled, and stuffing themselves with cake and food donated by my father and Mrs Martin. But I couldn't help but watch the clock, no matter how much it terrified me.

I understood that there were certain... Duties a husband had to do for his wife. Especially on their wedding night... But I was... I was scared.

Just the thought of being with Lydia in that sense didn't seem right. Ever since Derek and his damn mouth, I couldn't think of anyone like that, and I did try.

Even thought I knew at the time that masturbation was wrong, a sign of the Devil, I just couldn't help myself. It felt too good to not.

But ever since that incident with Derek, I hadn't been able to touch myself, not even thinking about Lydia would get things moving, and that simply wasn't normal.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The night drew to a close, and people were helping pack away.

"Stiles, why don't you take your beautiful wife to the hotel down on David's street?" I heard my father say as I put a cup into the sink before washing it up. (Something many people were confused with, but since my mother died, we didn't have a woman around the house to clean and make the dinners, and my father was always at work, so I had to make a few sacrifices)

"Because father of mine, I couldn't afford to, and I wouldn't know what Lydia would want to do". I tried to dissuade him.

"Well luckily you wouldn't need to pay for it. Hull who owns it owes me a favour, so you're getting the night for free". He smiled as he began to walk off- before turning around again, "Oh and Stiles, it's her wedding night too, I'm sure she's just as excited for it as you".

Pardon the language, but then all I thought was... S.H.I.T

\------------------------------------------------------------

Eventually things were cleaned and our parents finally pushed us out of the front door and directed us to the hotel.

There was no turning back now.

\------------------------------------------------------------

"You must be the happy couple". I remember what can only be assumed as Mr Hull's wife saying. She seemed a nice woman, soft brown hair and pale eyes, she must have been around 25, far too young in my opinion to be settled down and being known as Mr Hull's wife, like she's lost all identity...

Sorry, I'm getting side-tracked again, so we got directed to our room on the first floor, it was a nice room, not the most lavish, but nice.

Lydia nestled in before me. I tried to take as long as I could to close the door, to stall what was to come.

but what I saw when I turned around was Lydia simply sat on the bed, with a faint smile on her face.

"Stiles, could you sit next to me please", it was more of a demand than a question, but she still managed to sound so innocent, a skill I envied.

As I sat, she placed her hands in my lap and rested her head on my shoulder.

"Stiles... I like to consider myself a modern woman... And even though there are things I don't understand, I will still try and be tolerant to".

"Lydia, what are yo-".

"I found out why Isaac Lahey and Scott were so close, they were... Having relations... With each other". By this point I was quite worried she would be appalled at the idea. But again, she surprised me. "I don't understand why a man would fall for another male figure, when the female body was meant to be perfectly made for men. But I'd never stop them. Because they loved each other". Sitting up slightly, I saw her glassy eyes. "I'd never seen Scott's face so blissful then when he talked about Isaac. It reminded me of someone... It reminded me of how you used to talk of your adventures and secret meetings with Derek in the woods".

I was pretty much counting the minutes until she told me to never come near her.

"And I know I'll never be what you want... Sexually at least. All I can do is hope you do still love me at lea-".

"Lydia, I do. I do love you, I really really do. I love the way you smile when we walk through the flower field, I love the way you go red when I give you a flower, and I love the way you stand up for yourself, and other woman, because you refuse to be bullied into submission... I do love you... but I just...-"

"Can't love me like him..."?

Nodding was all I could manage.

"Most people would tell me I was mad for going through with the wedding, but I care for you far to much to imagine my life without you. We'll work it out", she smiled as she leant into me again.

\------------------------------------------------------------

We didn't sleep together that night, sexually at least. We thought we may as well get used to sleeping like a married couple. So we both slept in our underwear.

And before we go any further, all I can do is describe the perfection that was Lydia Mar- I mean Stilinki's body, she really was perfect... For someone else.

We spent the entire night wrapped in each other, it was nice, peaceful.

\------------------------------------------------------------

It was only a few days since our wedding night that we carried on deceiving people when Lydia approached me.

I was in my study of our house, something both of us and our joined families helped pay for. Trying to write a new chapter in my book. Just a children's adventure book, but it was a book all the same. It seemed like the best path for me, career wise, seeing how much I love to read.

-knock knock-

"Come in. Good afternoon my beautiful sweetheart". I greeted my wife as she entered the room.

"Flattery will get you nowhere", she smiled anyway as she perched on a small wooden stool I keep in the corner to stack paperwork.

"Ok Stiles", well I knew she meant business. "I love you, I do. But when a women hears stories of how amazing sex is, and how good it feels... Eventually she's going to want to try it. And I know you can't, before you say anything... Which is why I was hoping you'd let me try it... With someone else", she hesitated.

I won't pretend I wasn't considerably hurt by what she said. I knew I couldn't fulfil her sexual needs, but the thought of her being intimate with another man really hurt me.

But who was I to refuse her.

She wasn't a possession to be kept, she was her own woman. And it wasn't fair I keep her locked away when I'm the one whose at fault here...

So that was Lydia, off trying to find a man that she can explore her own sensuality with without the emotional baggage. I wasn't fine with it, but I'd have to be some level of Ok with it, for her sake.

However that night, it came to me. I had believed that it was my fault... When it wasn't.

It was Derek's!

'He was the one that made me this way', I told myself.

I wanted to blame him so much.

Because while the blame was on him, I couldn't judge myself.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The letters arrived the very next day.

There was a few of them, they must have been sent as a bundle, since they all had different dates on them.

He had written every week since, since he left.

I couldn't handle them, or him in general. So I locked them away in a draw in my study and tried to forget them.

Out of sight, out of mind.

If only life were that easy.

It was two days after the arrival of the letters when Lydia knocked on the door of the study, opening the door to reveal another man.

He was tall, extremely good looking, quite fit looking, health wise. To say I was confused was an understatement.

At first I believed he was here to see me, I get a few people coming here to talk to me about my books, but not usually without an appointment, but I was wrong.

"This is Jackson Whittemore, he's off to London in a couple of weeks". She smiled at me sadly, that's when things clicked together. I nodded slightly and turned back to my desk. I couldn't let her see the tears forming in my eyes.

Just the thought that I wasn't man enough to please my own wife, that she was going to be doing all sorts of things up there with him, things I couldn't do with her.

It hurt me, a lot.

I heard the faint taps of footsteps leading up to the spare room.

That's when I gave in, I had to read a letter, just one...

 

 


End file.
